A Man's Home Is His Castle

Creative anachronism in Ville Platte

by

When I was a little girl, my best friend was a princess. 

In my very first memory of her, we are both six years old. My mother crouches down beside me and points to the fair-skinned girl with hair dark as night across the playroom at school. “Jordan, that is Ardhyn," she says. "She lives in a castle.”  

So she did. Only a few miles from the small-town bustle of Ville Platte, the wooded drive down Chicot Park Road stands in cool contrast to the surrounding fields of rice, crawfish, soybeans, and cattle. Within those dark, wet woods, on a residential street called Red Oak Road, the Acadian Castle juts, tall and narrow, into the treetops. Past the stone column mailbox and over the drawbridge, a huge wooden front door is cut into the red-brick and stone façade. From the highest turret, three flags fly over the domain of Sir William Reed of Alnwick: the American flag, the Louisiana state flag, and the red dragon of Wales. 

Reed, a thirteenth-century English knight, is a persona adopted by Ardhyn’s father, Dr. Scott Parks. For over twenty years, Dr. Scott has been a member of The Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA), the international organization devoted to celebrating and researching the worlds of pre-seventeenth-century Europe through re-creation. SCA consists of about twenty kingdoms worldwide and counts over thirty thousand members. In Louisiana, members are part of the Kingdom of Gleann Abhann, which also includes Mississippi, most of Arkansas, and Memphis, Tennessee. Dr. Scott is a member of the Shire of Troll Fen, which encompasses Lafayette and the surrounding region. 

When Ardhyn and I were in middle school, Dr. Scott gave a presentation to the class on chivalry; the boys giggled ferociously and the girls listened intently as he told us that we women should never accept a greeting from a young man who does not first lean over and kiss our hands. 

Dr. Scott said that another aspect of his deep interest in the Middle Ages is the great legacy of glory on the battlefield. He said, “In true history, the battles were never pleasant or glorious for the men in it, but the bards sure did have fun playing them up.” 

That fun continues today. SCA puts on events within driving distance almost every weekend, typically tournaments, royal courts, feasts, classes and workshops, and even large-scale wars. Members adopt a persona of an individual from a particular era, from anytime between around 600 A.D. to the Renaissance. This entails research and a commitment to that persona, with dress and materials crafted in traditional methods, with the intent to be as authentic as possible. When Dr. Scott attends SCA events and tournaments, he wears armor true to the era of Sir William Reed, complete with heavy chainmail and a crest, all fashioned by Dr. Scott. 

He said, “In true history, the battles were never pleasant or glorious for the men in it, but the bards sure did have fun playing them up.” 

Dr. Scott’s wife, Dr. Lori Vidrine Parks (both husband and wife are board-certified internal medicine doctors), laughed as she remembered stories from her mother-in-law of Scott practicing sword fighting with a stick in the backyard. Though she was never, as she put it, a “history buff,” she always found his interest in the subject compelling. “I thought it was groovy that he had such a love for it,” she said. “I’ll never forget the day he came to me and said, ‘Let’s build a castle.’” 

The Parks’ castle was a ten-month process of custom-made creativity and experimentation. Using inspiration from the ruins of Scottish castles and manors, the couple worked with architects, principally Donald J. Breaux of Lafayette, to sketch out a plan for a castle in South Louisiana. 

“The trick was trying to get that feel to where it is still livable,” said Dr. Scott. “We wanted it to be a modern home but to still have the look of a castle.” 

The house is filled with medieval inspirations. In the bathroom, the toilet is flushed with a long chain that dangles on the side. A stone spiral staircase connects the first and second stories. “The architects had a blast with it, an absolute ball,” said Dr. Lori.

“I thought it was groovy that he had such a love for it,” she said. “I’ll never forget the day he came to me and said, ‘Let’s build a castle.’” 

The interior was designed so that the living room and the kitchen would be open. “In a house in south Louisiana, everyone hangs out in the kitchen,” said Dr. Scott.  “So if everyone is hanging in the kitchen, we can still talk to people in the living room—it’s one big area.” 

For two young girls, make-believe was all too easy. Dashing about the castle, Ardhyn and I wore veils and crowns and long dresses found in dark boxes. We talked endlessly of our knights—what they would look like, what their names would be, and all of the legendary feats they would accomplish for us. And then, because we had yet to find them, we imagined accomplishing those feats ourselves. The swords on the wall we occasionally nabbed when her father wasn’t looking; we’d swing them like we’d seen in movies. 

The woods surrounding the castle were magical. Secret abodes of elven creatures and faeries—we knew them all. Ardhyn swore she had seen them. At school we would pass notes about fairy rituals as well as recipes and poetry to communicate with our dear allies. We danced in circles of mushrooms in the backyard and caught toad princes in the murky waters of the moat. 

We talked endlessly of our knights—what they would look like, what their names would be, and all of the legendary feats they would accomplish for us. And then, because we had yet to find them, we imagined accomplishing those feats ourselves

Decades later, I still visit that castle. Now Ardhyn and I drink wine in the stone kitchen and laugh about our childhood games. Recently, after one of these visits, I stepped outside and I saw a mushroom circle right beside the sidewalk, closer than they ever used to get to the actual house. I took moment to step inside of it. I smiled and closed my eyes: for one quiet instant, the echoes of fairy songs sang in my head. 

The Parks and their two princesses have ruled their castle for the past eighteen years. Now that both girls are in college, I asked Dr. Scott if they will ever leave. 

“No, this will forever remain our headquarters,” said Dr. Scott, with fitting grandeur. “I will die in this house.” 

For more on the Society for Creative Anachronism and its activities in the region, visit sca.org.